Page 43 of Hers to Command

I narrow my eyes but nod. “Fine. Let’s talk strategy.”

He sets his glass down and leans in, his voice low enough that the hum of conversation around us ensures nobody can listen in. “You need to remind them who you are. Your father’s bloodline is your strongest card to play right now. Sergei believes some of the men are loyal to you, yes?”

I nod. “He does. But loyalty only goes so far when I’m only a daughter, not a son, and some of them probably suspect that I don’t like all aspects of my father’s business. Plus, Dmitri is waving promises of money in their faces with his connections to Russia.”

“Right,” Riccardo says. “So you give them a reason to stay loyal. Remind them what your father built, promising stability rather than conflict, and make them see you as his heir. An heir who can take over without border disputes with me or Gianna. That means you need to bring the men you want to convince together on your turf, under your terms.”

“I could host a dinner at my father’s house,” I say, the idea clicking into place.

Riccardo’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “I imagine Sergei can help you arrange it? But you need to make sure everyone knows that you’re the one in charge, not him. Speak to them and show why Sergei is willing to put his head on the block for you.”

I lean back, swirling the wine in my glass as I mull over the idea. “Do you really think a simple dinner will be enough to remind them I’m in line to inherit the organization?”

“No.” Riccardo shakes his head. “But they’ll remember what it felt like to follow someone with vision. From what I’ve heard about your father, he pulled shit together after his father died. You need to show them you can do the same. In the meantime, I’m having my people pull some information on Solntsev and his family.”

I take another sip of my wine, this time actually tasting the crisp notes of the Chateau Margaux. Riccardo is right, but thethought of stepping into my father’s shoes sends a strange chill down my spine. I’ve spent so much time craving power but accepting that I’d have to wield it almost secretly, first behind my father’s back and later behind the front of my brother running things, that now, when I might actually get to embrace it, I feel a flicker of doubt.

Riccardo reaches across the table, his hand brushing against mine. It’s unexpected, almost gentle, and I glance up to find his gaze steady on me. “You can do this, Anya. You wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

This far. Meaning married to someone with power so I can claw at some of my own.

Sleeping with a man to get what I want.

I pull my hand away, but his words stick with me. I don’t need his encouragement, but there’s something about the way he says it that still makes me want to believe him.

“Fine,” I say, “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” he says confidently, grinning at me before tasting his own wine.

I push my shoulders back and sit up straight as the server arrives with our appetizers.

Riccardo is the first man to truly believe in me. To support me. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone, especially him, see me falter.

Chapter Eighteen

Riccardo

Iwatch Anya in front of the mirror, the way she adjusts the fabric of her dress and brushes her hair back. She looks so fucking calm. As if this dinner with Sergei and the other presumably loyal men doesn’t feel like a ticking time bomb.

In hindsight, taking her out to dinner last week and letting her pull together this meeting was probably an absolute crap idea.

What the fuck had I been thinking encouraging her?

She’d been so fucking sexy, saying she wanted to fight for what should by all rights be hers. My dick had responded like a horny teenager and I’d been so fucking smug that I’d already floated the idea to Gianna and Mikhail that I’d almost laughed when Anya had said the exact thing to me.

Great minds think alike and all that.

Except now I don’t feel so smug because I don’t fucking like the idea of her meeting with all these men. Men who are fucking savages.

I step into the room, my voice sharp as I break the silence. “You’re not going alone.”

She doesn’t even flinch, her eyes flicking briefly to the reflection of me in the mirror. “I’m fine, Riccardo. I can handle this and you being there would certainly not make convincing them I should take over any easier.”

I close the distance between us, standing so close I can feel the heat coming off her. “I didn’t say I was going to come, but you will take Josh and Ren.” My voice is controlled, but there’s a bite in it now. She doesn’t understand that I fucking hate the idea of her walking into that room without protection.

I don’t even understand where this is coming from, because it’s not just some abstract pride about my legal wife possibly being hurt, making me look bad because I couldn’t protect what’s mine.

No, this feels personal.

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